


Santa baby

by RobinLeStrange



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Elves, F/M, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinLeStrange/pseuds/RobinLeStrange
Summary: A drunken Strike makes a promise he regrets the following day, but Robin is happy to reward him for a job well done!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36
Collections: Cormoran Strike Boxing Day Ficlet Fest





	Santa baby

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeBoxingDayFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeBoxingDayFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> “Normally I’d say no, but I’m on my fifth drink, so why not?”

“What.the.actual.FUCK.was I thinking?!” groaned Strike as Robin manoeuvred the BMW through the leafy streets of suburban Bromley.

Robin gave an amused snort. “I believe your exact words were “Normally I’d say no, but I’m on my fifth drink, so why not?” You only have yourself to blame.”

She was grinning from ear to ear now, and Strike’s mood lifted just a tiny bit at the sight. He still didn’t know how he was going to get through the morning though. The army had been less terrifying.

“Can’t you call and tell her I’ve been struck down with man flu or something?” he wheedled.

“Awww, c’mon. She’s your sister, you can’t let her down now. Besides, you’re guaranteed a place on the ‘nice’ list for doing this – who knows what you might get in your stocking?”  
“I’d rather get into your stockings,” he winked back, briefly distracted from his sense of impending doom.

“Yeah, maybe best not to think about that for the next few hours…I know the effect stockings have on you.” she admonished, good naturedly.

They’d been together for nearly half a year now, since shortly after her divorce was finalised. Any worries that either of them may have had about their relationship affecting the business had proved unfounded and they were looking forward to spending their first Christmas together.

Today however, they were heading to the primary school where Lucy was head of the PTA, and where, as of the previous evening, Santa, who had been due to appear at the Winter Fayre - was off sick with shingles.

Robin had been more shocked than Strike that he had said ‘yes’ when his sister had asked him to stand in, even after five pints of Doom Bar, but was thoroughly looking forward to seeing how he coped with three hours of small children. Despite his protestations that he didn’t know how to talk to kids, she knew that he was perfectly capable, even if it did fall outside his comfort zone.

What she hadn’t anticipated was the need for an elf.

“You don’t mind do you?” said Lucy, as Robin eyed the costume hanging on the sitting room door with shock. “Steve’s wife normally does it, but he’s so poorly she can’t possibly leave him at home on his own with the kids today, and I’d do it myself but I’m running the whole thing.”

“Er, no, that’s…fine. I’ll just go and get changed then…” she murmured, then as she passed Strike, who had been watching from the top of the stairs, “…and you can stop bloody smirking!”

When Robin appeared a short while later, he reflected that he’d happily have played Santa for the entire month of December to see he dressed as she currently was.

She was wearing an emerald green dress, fitted at the top with three-quarter length sleeves and a full skirt to a little above knee length, cinched in with a wide black belt. Her legs were encased in red and white horizontally striped tights. Sparkly red pumps and a green hat with a silver bell finished the look.

She could see his eyes twinkling at her from between the trim of his hat and the mass of white artificial facial hair attached to his face.

“You make a surprisingly sexy elf,” he remarked.

Robin glared at him to be quiet as Lucy came into the hall with her car keys and two youngest boys.

“Hmm,” she replied with an eye roll, “The costume tends to keep the bored dads interested.”

It was Strike’s turn to look unamused.

* * *

The first half of Strike’s Santa shift went smoothly. Robin had advised him to simply pretend he was undercover doing a surveillance job, and much to his surprise it worked. Which is not to say he wasn’t relieved when the first ninety minutes was up, and Lucy came in with tea and biscuits and put the ‘Santa’s feeding his reindeer’ sign on the door.

As soon as his sister left the room, he pulled Robin onto his lap.

“Have you been naughty or nice this year?” he grinned.

“I have been very nice and it’s going to stay that way until you’ve finished the job, she reprimanded him, mock sternly as she extricated himself from his grasp.

“Spoilsport,” he replied, pouting.

“Can’t make any promises about when we get home, mind you,” Robin winked at him.

The second half of the morning proved considerably more taxing and by the time they got back to Lucy’s Strike’s patience was well and truly frayed.

“Will you stay for some lunch Stick? Robin?”

Robin saw his pleading expression.

“That’s really kind Lucy, but we’ve got a few things to do this afternoon and a surveillance job this evening,” she lied, “So we’d better get going.”

Strike turned to her as they pulled away from Lucy’s house a few minutes later.

“Well done, I don’t know how I’d have gotten out of that otherwise.”

“You looked like you were about to spontaneously combust. Anyway, you can thank me properly later, but first…Tottenham?”

“God yes!”

The first round went down rapidly, and Robin returned to the bar for a second, but Strike was surprised to see her come back with just a pint for him.

“I need to do some quick Christmas shopping,” she told him. “Meet you back at your place in about half an hour?”

He looked at her quizzically.

“What’s so urgent that you have to go now?”

But she silenced him with a lingering kiss and left him to his pint.

* * *

An hour later, Strike was checking his watch, wondering where Robin had got to when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and a few moments later she burst through the door, slightly breathless.

“Everything alright?” he asked, as she dumped several bags in the corner, and turned to face him.

“Everything…is absolutely fine,” she replied, “I just thought you deserved a treat after all your hard work this morning.”

His face lit up as he headed to investigate the bags and their contents.

“Oh, your treat isn’t in there,” she said softly, removing her scarf as his eyes widened. There was no evidence of the jumper she’d been wearing earlier underneath her long, camel coat. There was no evidence of anything in fact, although weirdly she seemed to be wearing the glittery red heels from earlier. He was sure she’d been wearing her Converse when they’d left Lucy’s.

She grinned wickedly as she watched his reaction and began to slowly unbutton the coat to reveal nothing but a bra and knickers that reminded him instantly of her elf outfit from earlier, comprised as they were of a combination of red lace and green and white striped cotton. She was wearing knee high red and white striped socks along with the shoes, which he’d barely registered in his shock earlier, and pulled out a matching hat with green trim and silver bell and perched it on her head, before shrugging off the coat and letting it fall to the floor.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Strike, drinking in the sight of her, “There really should be a law against elves looking that sexy.”

“Well for God’s sake don’t go calling Wardle,” she laughed, “That would really ruin the mood.”

“No chance,” he replied, “But just hang on a minute…”

He reached around her to where his own coat was hanging, pulled from the pocket the Santa hat he’d been wearing that morning and tugged it on.

“I thought this might come in useful,” he growled, pulling her towards the bedroom. “Now come with me and I’ll show you the highest peak in the North Pole…”


End file.
